


In Control

by BubbleGumLizard



Series: Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015 [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romance, Sweet, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:46:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade is summoned to a nondescript office building and ordered around by a posh bloke who seems to think he owns the world -- until Greg manages to turn the tables on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After an extremely long day, Greg was eager to return home, take a shower, and go to sleep. Unfortunately for him, someone else had other plans. Moments before he was set to leave, he received instructions that he was to report to a specific address in twenty minutes. Cursing, he pulled his coat on and went to find a cab, hoping that he wouldn't have much trouble. Of course, he had a terrible time finding a cab and ended up strolling into the office building five minutes late and in a terrible mood.

He was shown into an office and asked to wait. He looked around, feeling extremely out of place. He was sure that no one as ratty-looking as him had ever been in such a well-dressed office, other than as a servant. Even then, he thought, as he looked at a side table full of decanters, the servants would be forced to be much better dressed that Greg was after a two-day case involving a madman who had taken to following Greg around, trying to get information on open cases and then solving them.

A man walked in and sat behind the desk, not acknowledging Greg. The man was more or less the antithesis of Greg: he was incredibly attractive, he was wearing an extremely posh suit, he was immaculately cleaned and coiffed, and he seemed totally sure of himself.

Greg's hand absently scrubbed over the stubble on his chin as he wished that he had taken five minutes to clean himself up before getting a cab.

"Please have a seat, Detective Inspector," the man said without looking at him, gesturing to the chair across the desk from him.

Something in the man's tone put Greg immediately on guard. He moved to stand in front of the chair, but didn't sit. "Who are you? Why have I been summoned here?" he demanded, deciding on angry as the correct emotion.

"Please have a seat, Detective Inspector," the man said, looking up at Greg with piercing eyes. "I will not offer again."

Greg was sure that the "I'm totally in control and you can't do anything about it" voice worked on nearly everyone, but Greg was damned if he was going to let it get to him. "I won't sit until you tell me what in the bloody hell is going on here."

A look of surprise passed across the man's face. He recovered quickly, but not quickly enough that Greg didn't notice it. The man stood, leaning on the desk, his voice dangerous and low. "I must insist, Detective Inspector. You will sit down for this meeting. Need I give you a demonstration of my power?"

Greg was too angry to be scared about anything the man could do to him. He put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side slightly, in his most defiant position. "Go ahead, then," he said.

The man came around the desk, crowding into Greg's personal space. "You will regret the consequences of your actions," he said quietly.

Greg started shouting -- what, exactly, he wasn't entirely sure -- and the man started shouting back. They were standing toe-to-toe, chest-to-chest, yelling right in each other's faces. At some point, the other man's eyes dropped down to Greg's lips, and he paused in his yelling to lick his lips. Greg paused as well, staring at the man, both of them with heaving chests.

Suddenly they crashed together, kissing each other desperately, hungrily. As he was maneuvered toward a leather couch that stood against one wall, Greg was vaguely aware that he had been angry about something. He couldn't for the life of him remember what he was angry about, all he knew was that he was sitting on a couch kissing an extremely sexy man, who was straddling him.

The man slid down off of him and Greg made an angry noise, but then the man was unzipping Greg's trousers and Greg's cock was engulfed in wet warmth. He threaded his fingers through the hair on the head in his lap, gripping slightly. The man made a pleased noise in his throat that Greg quite enjoyed. He pulled the hair harder, thrusting up into the hungry mouth. The man groaned, spurring Greg on. He kept thrusting until he came, which was an embarrassingly short time. He warned the man of his impending orgasm, but the man didn't move, swallowing everything down before resting his head on Greg's thigh.

He didn't give himself time to be embarrassed about his lack of longevity, though. He grabbed the man by his lapels and pulled him back into his lap, kissing him. He traded their positions, sinking to his knees and slowly unbuttoning the man's trousers.  "You don't have to..." the man said breathlessly, staring at Greg with unconstrained want.

Greg grinned wolfishly up at him. "Shut up," he said and took the man entirely in his mouth. The man's hips bucked up and Greg held them down, in place. He put one forearm across the man's stomach, holding him firmly, while his other hand came up to cup and massage the man's balls. The man grunted, obviously trying to stay quiet. Greg pulled off of him. The man looked down at him, questioning, and Greg knew he had him. "Make noise," he growled. "I want everyone in this building to know what's happening in here."

The man whimpered and nodded. Greg took him in his mouth again, sinking all the way down and then bobbing his head a bit. It had been a while since he had performed fellatio, but that didn't mean that he had forgotten all of his skills. It only took a few minutes for him to completely undo the man, who was soon letting out the dirtiest moans that Greg had ever heard: by the time the man's cock was pulsing in his mouth as he came, Greg was hard and ready to go again.

When he pulled himself up onto the couch, the man leaned over to an end table, opening a small drawer in it. He pulled something out and tossed a bottle of lubricant and a condom to Greg, his eyes almost hypnotizing Greg with the want in them as he kicked his pants off. Greg took his hand and pulled him down so he was straddling Greg again. "Do this often?" Greg asked with a chuckle before kissing the man and trailing his hand down the man's back. As he began preparing the man, biting his lip at the gasps and moans coming from the extremely expressive mouth he was kissing, Greg pulled back and watched the man's face, considering him. He still didn't know the man's name, he realized. He had never done anything so spontaneous, preferring long-term monogamous relationships to one night stands. He put that thought out of his head as he finished preparations, pushing the man sideways so he was on the couch and turning him over. The man got on his hands and knees, turning and looking at Lestrade with that look again, the look of want that made Greg want to take everything he could.

Greg knelt behind him, positioning himself at the man's entrance and then thrusting in, slowly at first. The man let out a shaky moan and pushed back, causing Greg to grab the man's hips and push himself in fully. He had intended to take his time for the man's comfort, but before he knew it he was thrusting wildly as the man shouted in pleasure, pushing himself back as much as he was able.

When they had both finished (again), Greg collapsed back on the couch. The man stood and disappeared into what seemed to be an attached loo, coming back and tossing Greg a pack of cigarettes. The man opened a window by the couch and dropped down next to Greg, lighting his own cigarette and then lighting the one Greg puilled out.

"Mycroft Holmes," the man said, his head dropping onto Greg's shoulder. "That's my name."

"How often do you do this?" Greg asked, enjoying his cigarette.

"Never. I have never done anything like this. Well. I have had sex. But that was years ago."

Greg mulled that over for a moment. "And you just happened to have condoms and lubricant?"

"A joke by my assistant last year. She will no doubt be regreting that now," Mycroft said with a smile. "And you, Detective Inspector?"

"I don't regret it at all," Greg joked said, smiling at him. "Call me Greg. And no, I don't do thinkgs like this. I don't usually put out on the first date, let alone before I even know a person's name." He put his arm around Mycroft's shoulders, hoping that wasn't going too far.

Mycroft shifted slightly, snuggling into Greg. "So are we going to repeat this?" he asked, sounding strangely vulnerable.

Greg chuckled. "Well, I like this as much, if not more, than what we were just doing, so I'd say yes. Maybe dinner first, though?"

"Tomorrow night?" Mycroft asked drowsily.

"It's a date. Why did you order me here?" Greg asked, suddenly remembering his earlier anger.

"Sherlock," Mycroft mumbled. "It's about Sherlock."

Holmes, ah, Greg thought. He looked down when Mycroft didn't continue talking and was surprised to find that Mycroft was asleep. He chuckled and slipped out from underneath him, setting his head down gently on one end of the couch and lifting his feet onto the other end. Greg leaned down and kissed Mycroft's forehead, before scribbling a quick note and leaving it on the desk.

When he left the office, he kept his head held high. The woman who had let him in was staring at him as he walked past. She looked so shocked that Greg burst into laughter the moment he left the building.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft woke up with a sore neck. He was confused for a moment, wondering why he was sleeping in his office, not something he normally did. His meeting with Greg came back to him in a rush and he flushed. Luckily, no one was in the room to notice it. He stood, stretching his neck and wondering where Greg went. He saw the note on the desk, saving the phone number that had been scrawled across the bottom of it in his phone. He made sure that everything was as neat as it had been when Gregory arrived, steeled himself for the interaction, and called his assistant in.

She had a smirk on her face as she entered with a pot of tea. "Having a pleasant afternoon, sir?"

Mycroft bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from smiling. "Is that supposed to be funny, Anthea?" he asked, turning his attention to his email.

She turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. "Sir, may I overstep for a moment?"

Mycroft looked at her, knowing what she was thinking as if she had said it aloud. "I'm nothing if not careful."

"It isn't that, exactly. I know you are a cautious man and you're certainly responsible. I just worry that you might get hurt."

Mycroft blinked at her. "Why would I be hurt by this? I'm hardly planning to fall madly in love."

"Well, you were hardly planning on shagging the Detective Inspector this afternoon. It is very unlike you, I worry that it's the beginning of something more."

"Concern noted," Mycroft said, nodding at her. She left, leaving Mycroft with an uneasy feeling. He had no intentions of falling in love, but Anthea was right.

The next day, Mycroft confirmed plans with Greg before dressing very carefully and waiting anxiously in his office for the date.

Greg was precisely on time. He seemed a little nervous and had clearly tried to dress his best for the occasion. "Good evening," Greg said, awkwardly standing in the doorway.

Mycroft allowed himself a small smile. "Are you unsure if you want to be here?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"No!" Greg said, licking his lips. "I really want to be here, I just--I've never done this before. I've never been on a date with someone I've already shagged. It seems like there's more pressure."

"Pressure? Shouldn't the pressure be off if we already know that we are compatible in bed?"

"Well that's the thing. I like relationships. Now I'm feeling pressure to make you like me, so that we can keep being compatible in bed."

Mycroft attempted a sultry smile. Greg's respirations quickened, so it must have been a hit, he noted. "I already like you. No one has ever defied me like you did. It intrigues me. You might have noticed that I tend to have a kink," Greg grinned that wolfish grin again, "for being ordered around."

"I liked doing the ordering," Greg told him, stepping close and kissing Mycroft's cheek sweetly. "I'm hoping we can have a repeat performance later."

"If we don't leave now, we may have a repeat performance now," Mycroft said with a smile.

"Then let's go. I need something to eat before I ravish you." Greg took Mycroft's hand and led him out. "I have a treat for you. I'm taking you to my favorite restaurant."

Mycroft's elitism led him to assume that Greg would be taking him somewhere casual and low-class. To his surprise, they arrived at one of Mycroft's favorite restaurants, one of the most popular in the city.

"How did you manage a reservation on such short notice?" Mycroft asked.

Greg just grinned and held the door for him. When they had been seated, at the best table, Mycroft noticed, the chef came out and greeted Greg with a broad smile. "Good evening, little brother," she said, hugging him. She turned to look at Mycroft expectantly.

"Sis, this is Mycroft. Mycroft, this is my sister Jen.”

Mycroft shook the woman’s offered hand. “I love your creations,” Mycroft said in his best schmoozing voice. “I come here at least once a month.”

She smiled, laughed, said something charming and then left them alone after shooting Greg a meaningful look.

“She likes you,” Greg announced as the waiter brought them some wine. “She wouldn’t send a bottle this good if she didn’t.”

Mycroft stared at Greg, amazed. “Honestly, this restaurant is...unexpected.”

Greg laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m as down to earth as I look. This is the poshest part of me and it’s not even me, it’s my sister.”

Mycroft smiled, relaxing a bit at that. He let himself go a bit, trying to drop some of the walls that he normally kept up.

The evening went really well. He found that he enjoyed talking to Greg as much as, if not more than, he enjoyed shagging him. They talked about all manner of things that evening, going back to their childhoods. Eventually, the conversation turned to Sherlock and gained a seriousness uncharacteristic of their earlier conversations.

“So why did you call me into your office to talk about your brother?” Greg asked over dessert.

Mycroft put his fork down and considered what he wanted to say. “I wanted to ask you to allow him to continue working with you. He would never tell me this, but he enjoys it quite a bit and it keeps his mind distracted, so he doesn’t return to more...unsavory habits.”

“The drugs?” At Mycroft’s surprised nod, he smiled. “I’ve seen my share of junkies. For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s currently using. But as long as I don’t get into trouble for it, I will call him in when I need help.”

“I will ensure that there is no issue with you using his services,” Mycroft said with a warm smile. “I worry about him constantly. He avoids me as much as he can, but I still worry.”

“He’s your brother, it’s understandable,” Greg said. He stood and held his hand out to Mycroft. “Shall we?”

Mycroft smiled and took Greg’s hand. “Where are we going now?”

“I was thinking my flat, if you are amenable,” Greg told him shyly.

Mycroft nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

They caught a cab to Greg’s flat. It was small, but it was quite a smart flat, in a good neighborhood. Mycroft looked around it appreciatively. “It’s tiny,” Greg said, sounding embarrassed.

“I think it’s perfect,” Mycroft told him.

In a flash, Greg was crowding him, pushing him into the wall. “I think you’re perfect,” he said, kissing Mycroft’s neck. “I’ve never dated anyone so sexy.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Mycroft said, but smiled at the compliment all the same.

“It is true. You are amazing. The way you hold yourself, like you own the world. I just want to possess you, to claim you for my own,” Greg growled, pressing his body against Mycroft’s.

Mycroft moaned. He had never been submissive in anything, but all he wanted was to do exactly what Greg wanted, to please him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to ride me,” Greg whispered into his ear, reaching down and massaging Mycroft’s hardening cock through his trousers. He suddenly stepped back and dragged Mycroft into the bedroom, tearing off his clothes when they reached it. “Strip,” he commanded as he lay on the bed. 

Mycroft tried to be as sexy as possible as he stripped. He wasn’t sure he accomplished it, but he was gratified to notice that Greg started stroking himself as he watched Mycroft undress. When he finished, Greg beckoned and Mycroft and Mycroft crawled onto the bed. He wasn’t sure exactly what Greg wanted from him, but he was more than happy to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg rolled over and buried his face in Mycroft’s back, wrapping his arm around Mycroft’s middle. He sighed happily as Mycroft grabbed his hand, holding it to his chest. Greg could feel Mycroft’s heartbeat under his hand. A beam of sunlight was coming through the window and falling across Mycroft’s face, and in that moment Greg felt completely at peace. It seemed weird to him, but he already felt like he was falling in love with Mycroft. 

"I need to go," Mycroft said, rolling over to face Greg and kissing him good morning. He studied Greg's face for a long moment and then smiled. "I would rather stay, though."

Greg grinned. "I would rather you stayed. I should be getting ready for work, though. It's a bit later than I normally get up, but I fancied a bit of a cuddle."

"This may be a bit much, but dinner again tonight?"

"Sure. Your choice this time." Greg was very happy that Mycroft suggested it: he had been about to suggest the same thing, but hadn't wanted to seem too clingy.

"If we both have to prepare for work, perhaps we may be able to find a way to maximize our shower time," Mycroft said with a small smile.

Greg chuckled. "You're a genius, Mycroft."

While it was quite enjoyable, showering together made their showers longer rather than saving time. When they finally got dressed, Greg had a missed call about a murder. Swearing, he left Mycroft to let himself out and rushed to the crime scene.

When he arrived there, the first thing he noticed was Sherlock Holmes arguing with Sally Donovan at the police tape. "Oy!" he shouted, walking up to them. "Sally, leave him alone. Sherlock, come on in." 

"You're going to let me help?" Sherlock asked hopefully as Greg ducked under the tape and held it up for Sherlock.

"As long as you stay clean."

"Ah, you've met my insufferable brother."

"Yes, I did, but I am a detective. I knew you were a junkie the moment I laid eyes on you. Sally, report," he said, knowing she was standing behind him, seething at Sherlock's presence.

She explained the situation to them, pointedly ignoring Sherlock. Greg ignored her, figuring that Sherlock could handle a little bit of rudeness, considering he was plenty capable of dishing it out himself. 

Greg was caught up at the crime scene for most of the day. By the time he actually made it into his office, Sherlock and Sally trailing him, it was nearly time for him to meet Mycroft. When they walked into the office, the first thing that they saw was a very large flower arrangement on his desk.

"Who is that from?" Sally asked, staring. "Women don't usually send the men flowers."

"What woman? Lestrade's clearly sleeping with a man," Sherlock said casually, sitting down. 

"What?" Sally asked, staring.

Greg sighed. "I have gone on one date with him. And I have another in twenty minutes, if we can wrap this up."

"I didn't know that you were gay, boss."

Greg didn't bother correcting her. "Does it matter?" he asked, not looking up from his paperwork.

"I suppose not."

"It certainly does not," Sherlock said. "Now can we please discuss the case?"

By the time Greg managed to get out of the office, Mycroft had texted him that they had missed their reservation. Greg returned home, feeling defeated. When he arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to see Mycroft leaning casually on his building, holding what appeared to be a bag of takeaway. "Oh, I love you," he said, not thinking about his words before he said them. He paused, staring at Mycroft, watching for a reaction.

Mycroft just smiled and took Greg's keys out of his hand, unlocking the door and pulling Greg inside. He dropped the bag of food and pushed Greg up against the door. "Do you mean that?" he asked and kissed Greg's neck.

"I--I think so," Greg confessed. "I know it's really soon to say something like that, but you're just so...so amazing. I've never wanted to spend so much time with someone so soon."

Mycroft trailed his hand down Greg's front, stroking him through his trousers. "I think I love you, too," he whispered, burying his face in Greg's neck.

At that, Greg pushed Mycroft backwards, toward the bedroom. He practically threw him down on the bed and kicked his trousers off, unbuttoning Mycroft's trousers and dragging them off. He crawled on top of him, leaning down and kissing him deeply. "You are bloody amazing."

Later, Greg and Mycroft were eating the takeaway and laughing hysterically. Mycroft cocked his head to the side, a delighted look on his face. “I’ve never laughed this much with anyone before.”

Greg leaned over and kissed him. “I’m glad I’m able to make you laugh.”

Mycroft set his plate down, took Greg’s plate and set it down, and then snuggled himself under Greg’s arm. “I’ve never enjoyed cuddling before.”

Greg chuckled and tightened his arm. “I’ve always liked cuddling. But cuddling you is better than cuddling anyone.”

“Are we mad?”

Greg considered the question for a moment. “I don’t think we are. Mad would be getting married. We’re not doing that, we’re just spending time together. Mad would also be staying out of bed any longer.” He saw Mycroft’s grin and gave him an extra squeeze. “I only meant that it’s late. Though I would like to get you into bed for other reasons.”

***

Things continued on that way for weeks: they made plans for dinner every night and sometimes work would cause one of them to miss the reservations, leading Mycroft to come over to Greg’s with takeaway. They always went to Greg’s flat, never Mycroft’s. When Greg asked why, he was met with a few minutes of silence.

“I had a long term relationship. That’s when I bought my flat, it was when we moved in together. The end of our relationship was bad.” He avoided Greg’s gaze. Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft and held him. “I’m selling it,” he said quietly.

“Well, someday we’ll buy a place together and it will be wonderful,” Greg whispered comfortingly, making Mycroft sigh happily and relax into Greg’s arms.

So things continued, the two of them living together at Greg’s flat. Greg thought more and more about what they would do in the future. He thought about asking Mycroft to marry him nearly every day. It had been several weeks since they had first said that they loved each other and Greg was convinced that he was going to spend the rest of his life with Mycroft. He worried that it was too soon to ask him, though, so he stayed quiet.

Seven weeks after they had started dating, Greg was at a crime scene with Sherlock, just about ready to leave for the night, when a black car pulled up. Mycroft stepped out of it and walked towards them. Greg wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do in this situation: they hadn’t talked about telling Sherlock and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to out them. Sherlock had, of course, made several snide comments about Greg being in a relationship, but Greg had mostly ignored them, sure that if Sherlock knew who Greg was dating, he would have made much more of a fuss than some rude comments.

Mycroft didn’t lean in for a kiss when he reached them, he reached out to shake Greg’s hand. Greg smiled what he hoped was a normal smile and shook, understanding why Mycroft didn’t want to say anything.

“Oh, no,” Sherlock said quietly, looking between the two of them in horror.

“Yes, brother mine?” Mycroft asked in a smooth voice.

“My brother, Lestrade?” Sherlock shouted. Greg winced at his volume, considering that they were surrounded by his subordinates, but he knew Sherlock needed to get this out. “You’re shagging my brother?”

“Sherlock!” Greg said firmly as Sherlock started babbling, holding Sherlock’s arm. It must have worked, because Sherlock stopped talking and stared at him. “Yes, I am in a relationship with your brother, but we discussed you shouting out personal information like this. What your brother and I do is no concern of yours and you will keep it to yourself.” He released Sherlock’s arm and Sherlock turned and walked quickly away, muttering darkly.

Greg turned to look at Mycroft, who shrugged. “He will undoubtedly recover from his shock.”

“The freak’s brother, boss?” Sally said with a smirk, walking up.

“Yes, Mycroft Holmes,” Mycroft said, stretching his hand out to shake. 

She stared at him. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“Of course not, Sally,” Greg said in his most disapproving voice. “Now leave us.” He turned to Mycroft, ignoring Sally’s stammered apologies.

Mycroft smiled at Greg when she left, the usual delighted look on his face. “I thought we might come out to Sherlock.”

“You could have given me some warning,” Greg said, smiling back.

Mycroft laughed. “Yes, but that would have been much less fun. Dinner?”

“Of course,” Greg said, shaking his head and laughing. “You’re mad.”


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft gripped the velvet box in his trouser pocket tightly. He had bought it the previous week and had been carrying it around ever since, looking for an appropriate time to bring it out and ask Greg. He wasn’t particularly romantic, so even though he tried his best to think of something romantic, he couldn’t think of anything. He decided to wait for an opportunity, hoping one would reveal it to him soon.

They had been dating for six months and it had been the best six months of his life. He had come to think that he just wasn’t the sort of person who was meant to be in a relationship. Every relationship he had ever been in had been so miserable that he thought it was him. Now that he was with Greg, however, he realized that he had just been dating people who were very wrong for him.

He had plans to meet Greg at his sister’s restaurant that night, but when he arrived there, it seemed dark. He walked up to the door to look inside, but when he reached the door, it swung open from the inside and the hostess gestured him inside.

He stepped in, noticing that it was unnaturally silent and nearly all of the tables had been cleared. There was one lone table in the middle of the room, lit by candles that surrounded it in a circle on the floor, where Greg stood, smiling that adorable, slightly awkward smile he had when he was doing something sweet. When Mycroft crossed over the circle of candles, a lone violin began playing. If Mycroft hadn’t known better, he would thought it was Sherlock playing. Greg dropped down to one knee as Mycroft met him, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it up.

Mycroft gasped as he saw the box, identical to the one in his pocket. When the box opened and he saw the ring, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Mycroft?” Greg asked from the floor, frowning slightly. “I’m being romantic here. Laughing isn’t the correct reaction."

Mycroft realized what he was doing and dropped to his knees in front of Greg. He pulled the box out of his pocket, opened it, and held it out. When Greg saw it, his mouth dropped open, After a moment, he began laughing as well.

“As at the same time?” Greg said and Mycroft nodded.

“Will you marry me?” they asked in unison.

“Yes,” they replied to each other.

Mycroft took the ring out of the box he held and slid it onto Greg’s ring finger: it fit perfectly. Greg took the ring out of the box he held and slid it onto Mycroft’s ring finger: it also fit perfectly. They clasped hands and leaned in for a kiss before pulling apart and looking down at their matching rings.

“There’s only one thing I don’t understand,” Mycroft said after a long, comfortable silence, during which they both marveled at how well they knew each other.

“Hm? What’s that?”

“How did you get a recording of Sherlock playing one of his songs?” he asked, glancing around for the speakers.

“I didn’t,” Greg said, pointing at a corner near the kitchen. Out of the shadows walked Greg’s sister Jen, holding their favorite dinners, and Sherlock, playing his violin. He was even managing to not look miserable.

“How…?”

Greg grinned. “I offered him privileges to play with corpses at a hospital. I might need your help delivering on that one, though.”

“What are you going to promise him to get him to play at the wedding?” Mycroft asked, returning his grin.

“I may have to kill you and let him dissect your corpse,” Greg said with a straight face.

“Best not risk it, then,” Mycroft said. “We’ll have to hire a band for that occasion.”

“But then we’ll have Sherlock as a guest. He may want to make a toast.” Greg shuddered.

“Don’t fret about things going horribly at the wedding just yet, love.” Mycroft stood and pulled Greg up, pulling out his chair and then sitting down himself as Jen delivered the food and poured the champagne.

***

Two months later, Greg and Mycroft came together in the living room of their new house and swore to love each other forever in front off their loved ones (even Sherlock, who was on his best behavior).

When they went to bed that night in their new bedroom, Greg held Mycroft tightly, kissing the top of his head. “I love you, Mister Holmes-Lestrade,” he said quietly.

“And I love you, Detective Inspector Holmes-Lestrade,” Mycroft responded, holding on and never letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last chapter is short and a bit sappy, but sometimes you need sappy, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Part five of my 2015 NaNoWriMo craziness! I'm currently at 31K words out of a goal of 150K. I'm a bit behind, but nothing I can't make up if I never sleep again.
> 
> This is the smuttiest thing I've ever written (and I wrote it in public!) so I'm a little nervous about it.


End file.
